


The Boyfriend Saga, as Observed by Sam Wilson and the Useless Superheroes who keep Barging into his Life and Befriending Him

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agency and Free Will and Boundaries treated seriously with Consequences for Trespassers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Gay Steve Rogers, M/M, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, POV Outsider, Protective Steve Rogers, Stalking is Not a Joke, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Top Bucky Barnes, not crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They shared space with the easy affection of long-term lovers, finely attuned to the rhythm of life as a twosome, not fumbling like the newly-attached couple that they were.</i><br/>-</p><p>Steve has a boyfriend, and Sam just can't figure him out. The man is a puzzle the Avengers cannot decipher. Time is running out to determine whether he's someone they can place their trust in, before he becomes a permanent fixture in Steve's life, that the Captain will fight tooth and nail against them to keep. (But Sam is beginning to realise they lost that war before they were even aware of the first battle). And he demands a raise for putting up with these fools.<br/>-</p><p>Are you tired of fic where invasion of privacy is commonplace, unlawful monitoring is accepted and confidential data raided for the character's "own good", with no real repercussions for the wrongdoers? Then this might be the fic for you, because my Steve doesn't take any of that shit lying down. He doesn't like bullies; it doesn't matter where they're from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jimmy

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it, if everyone else is too chicken.” Tony announced to the room at large, apropos of nothing.

The kitchen’s occupants made non-committal grunts of acknowledgement, or, in Natasha’s case, stopped meditating in a headstand and elegantly curled back onto their feet in an upright position. Sam put down his coffee, freeing his hands for action. You never knew what to be prepared for with Stark. It was best to assume the worst. Sam had learnt to brace himself for the most unlikely, ridiculous option available out of the myriad of possible outcomes.

“Capsicle’s new toyboy looks remarkably like his dead bestie, and possible illicit lover - if the HBO miniseries is to be believed.” Tony proclaimed, seemingly immune to the winces and eye-rolls directed at him in response.

Stark was right to assume that they too had noticed the uncanny resemblance which Steve’s boyfriend had, in both face and form, to the dead man plastered all over the Smithsonian exhibit right next to giant paintings of Cap’s own face. It was kind of impossible to miss.

It had been a shock for Sam and the Avengers, when their team leader had rolled up to the newly christened Avengers HQ. He was finally ready to accept Tony’s (repeated) invitation for his own suite within said tower, but with a blue-eyed, raven-haired, disabled war veteran in tow, completely brazen about their non-platonic relationship.

Steve’s nonchalant introduction of his less than chaste relationship with the fresh-off-the-boat-from-the-frontlines veteran, had basically been too much for Sam’s poor heteronormative brain to manage. Steve had barely gotten out the message; 

“This is my boyfriend, it’s still okay if he moves in on my floor with me, right, Tony? We were already living together so…” before said boyfriend had dragged him off to ‘break in’ Steve’s floor of the tower. Which they did, loudly. All weekend.

It was only after they had disappeared into the shiny glass elevator, that Sam realised he hadn’t actually caught the boyfriend’s name. He didn’t waste time berating himself for it though, since none of the rest of them had either. (In fact, no one wanted to admit their lack of finesse in the face of surprising news, so no one mustered up the courage to ask.)

Natasha had taken the news particularly hard, grumbling under her breath about 'stupidly repressed Americans' wasting her time, until Sam was finally curious enough to wrangle that she’d been trying to set Steve up on dates for months, before the whole SHIELDRA fiasco. With the wrong gender. She then proceeded to bemoan all the nice, normal and polite boys that she knew, who could have coaxed Steve out of his shell _gently_.

Unlike the actual boyfriend Steve had chosen for himself... who was the very definition of a spitfire bad boy who flew too close to the sun, just itching to get burned for the thrill of it. Who would have thought that would be the kind of guy who pressed Steve’s buttons.

Indeed, Steve wasn’t interested in Natasha’s female brand of wickedness, and seemed repulsed whenever Stark displayed similar qualities as his boyfriend. Sam had been witness to several cold silences and actual blown-up rows between Steve and Tony, the kind of tension which was about as far from sexual as you could get. Sometimes, Sam felt the horrible sensation that Steve actually despised the technological genius, and it was just too weird to imagine Steve hating anyone.

It was a stark contrast to Steve’s occasional dust up with the boyfriend; their arguments were infinitely more savage, no punches pulled, and Sam avoided them at all costs, because they were equally likely to result in slammed doors or rough sex all over the closest surface. Which he only knew because the boyfriend was lewd and horrifically honest in recounting said arguments. It took Steve chattering away at mile a minute, in a stronger Brooklyn accent than Sam had ever heard fall from his lips, to ‘Jimmy’, across the breakfast bar on Clint’s floor, to clue them all in.

Jimmy had a bright smile, a wicked, dark sense of humour and a lack of shame that took even Tony aback. His Brooklyn accent was thicker than Steve’s, and his talk coarser. Sometimes when he spoke, it seemed like every other word was a swear. He didn’t understand personal space bubbles or political correctness, and spoke to the Avengers, little old ladies and congressmen at Stark Industries functions in the exact same manner. He was leery of children, especially babies, but seemed charmed by skinny, tow-headed teenagers with gangly limbs, the sort Steve would go to cheer up in full uniform in the terminal children’s wards. Jimmy tagged along wherever Steve went, like a crass, chain-smoking shadow.

He also drank like a fish; but never seemed like an unreliable drunk, which Tony groused about endlessly. Despite his clear military background, familiarity with weapons, and ability to follow Clint and Natasha’s hypothetical tactical scenario debates, Jimmy made no offer to assist the team on missions or with training regimes. And he had absolutely no respect for authority. The one time Tony suggested he show them ‘what he could do’, in order to be assessed as potential backup for the Avengers, he simply laughed, long and loud.

When Tony pressed the point, Steve stepped in, slamming the billionaire into his own reinforced wall and snarled that they would _never_ ask Jimmy to risk his safety that way. Tony appeared as shocked as everyone else at the clear rage in Steve’s eyes, and the hostility coming off the supersoldier in waves. It took Jimmy softly calling his name to make him step back. Steve reluctantly left the room with a parting shot: Jimmy had given enough and Tony had no right to ask him for more. His firm words were accompanied by a pointed look at the experimental prosthetic that had replaced Jimmy’s entire left arm.

Sam had to concede that Steve had a point. Sam was pretty sure that Tony wouldn’t have appreciated Steve trying to drag Pepper into the line of fire, so he really should extend that courtesy to the civilian significant others of his team mates.

In actual fact, Jimmy’s skill set remained as mysterious as the rest of his origins. He resisted any attempts to commemorate and commiserate over shared experiences in the military, and was not tempted by the egotistical one-upmanship that the Avengers engaged in daily, to show off and proclaim themselves the more skilled in a particular discipline. Jimmy seemed completely unaffected by macho posturing, confidently secure in himself, and uninclined to prove his prowess.

Sam was man enough to admit he was jealous of the way Jimmy never rose to the bait, whether it was Tony’s brash dismissal of his abilities or Clint and Natasha’s disregard of him as a potential threat. Jimmy carried himself like a man who knew how each and every muscle in his body was best used, at ease with his strength. He chose not to wade in on discussions of morality, apparently unconcerned with the plight of others, unless he or Steve were directly impacted by real scenarios that cropped up.

In short, Jimmy seemed to be the antithesis of everything Steve Rogers stood for, with or without his Captain America persona. But it seemed to Sam that maybe they didn’t know Steve as well as they thought. He laughed - genuine, head-thrown-back, dimple cheeked laughter at Jimmy’s rude jokes and acidic comments, which made Sam seriously rethink how happy Steve had been before Jimmy exploded onto the scene with his close-cropped messy hair and tobacco-stained fingers.


	2. Steve

What Sam might previously have considered to be Steve’s brightest smile was paltry compared to the megawatts he bestowed on Jimmy, whenever the younger man sauntered into the room, clad in his standard dress of a ratty t-shirt and sinfully tight jeans. The man was a mystery, and even more mysterious was the way he managed to unravel Steve’s protective layers of distance and lack of human connection, and get under the Captain’s skin.

Even Natasha, with all her expertise in espionage, and Sam, with his therapeutic conversation, couldn’t tease information out of Steve the way Jimmy did with ease, all with a well-timed quip and a saucy look. Steve offered insight into his pre-war years with a gusto that historians would have salivated over. Sam knew he opened up to Jimmy alone with his more precious memories and deepest thoughts, having accidentally stumbled across them whispering together in the dark more than once. Jimmy lent a more sympathetic ear than Sam might have expected, due to his apathy about all things aside from Steve, but he was learning to throw his expectations out of the window when it came to Jimmy and Steve.

They shared space with the easy affection of long-term lovers, finely attuned to the rhythm of life as a twosome, not fumbling like the newly-attached couple that they were. Which was another enigma all of its own; Sam couldn’t for the life of him work out how, let alone when, Steve had factored in time for a relationship. He barely slowed down enough to make acquaintances, and it had taken months of sharing the same running route for Steve to acknowledge Sam himself with more than a cursory nod.

How had Jimmy slid into his vision long enough to force Steve to really look at him and see the potential for a long-term relationship there? That skill alone should have had the Avengers beating down his door to learn from him. Sam knew that the fact they weren’t, was a testament to Jimmy’s ability to blend into the background, so that you almost forgot there had ever been a time when he wasn’t there, a huge piece of the puzzle that was Steve Rogers.

Sam had exchanged actual words with Steve a year after he had been found in the ice, some months after New York and the world had been rocked by the revelation of the existence of goddamn literal aliens. It was right before the exposing of SHIELDRA blew up in all of their faces, and Sam was the only non-compromised safe haven Steve had in the city. Luckily their friendship had been too young for anyone, good or bad, at SHIELDRA to take note of it. And lucky for Sam’s life expectancy that he was a genuine bystander, and not a HYDRA plant, like several of Steve’s neighbours and his local coffee barista had been revealed to be.

With his wings attached, Sam was just the kind of unconventionally trained assist that Steve required on mission. But after the giant, deadly helicarriers had plunged into the Potomac, Steve didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. Tasha had disappeared to create new personas for herself, after exposing all of her old ones, in her very own WikiLeaks classified data dump. Fury had done the same, in order to lick his wounds, bitter that his life’s legacy was tainted. Sam thought of a fragile old lady sobbing in her hospice room, and knew there were many more just like him out there. Somehow, he hadn’t thought Steve would be one, even though it was clear, now, that his sacrifice in plunging into the ice had been for naught, because HYDRA survived.

Steve seemed shell shocked at the scale of insidious deceptions, and he had wandered listlessly through the rows of white gravestones in the military cemetery after Fury and Natasha were gone, seemingly without goal or destination. It should have been Sam’s first clue that Steve was much harder to read than widely believed; because he came to rest in the WWII section, kneeling in front of what Sam knew was the empty grave of his best friend.

They remained in silent contemplation until the sun sank beyond the misty horizon, Sam humbled by the sea of monuments to heroic sacrifices of the fallen, which stretched as far as the eye could see. Steve was no doubt lost in his memories. When dusk crept upon them, Steve rose to press a single, heartfelt kiss to the engraved letters of the Sergeant’s name. Sam felt his heart stutter at the awful realisation that the rumours of a hidden, tragic ‘love that could never be’ were true. Sam allowed his understanding of Steve to shift from a man mourning the loss of his world and all the people in it, including his best buddy, to a man grieving for the love of his life, whose body had an unmarked resting place in the French wilderness.

Shortly after that, Steve disappeared off Sam’s radar (though not without foreknowledge of his departure), and out of the States altogether, if the gossip was to be believed. Last Sam saw of him before his unceremonious return with sexy boyfriend in tow, Steve had been obsessively trawling through HYDRA’s decrypted files, beginning with their version of the supersoldier program.

They’d both been horrified to learn that Natasha, in truth much older than she appeared, had been a recipient of a modified version of Zola’s serum. It had advanced the healing of her soft tissue and organs, at the detriment to her bones. The Red Room, working closely with HYDRA scientists, had gradually replaced her skeleton throughout the years, which kept her going along with a smorgasbord of drugs. Sam hadn’t wanted to pry into the details, relying only on what Tasha herself told him before they parted ways, and what the media shouted too loud for him to ignore. But Steve had no such compunctions. It was like he’d been whipped into a frenzy by the HYDRA experiment files, and he wanted to absorb by osmosis all the data that was available on their mixed results.

After a week or so of his frantic reading, Steve went radio silent. When he missed their usual morning run without a word of explanation, Sam ended his jog at the door to Steve’s apartment. He found him haphazardly throwing clothes and other supplies into the kind of suitcase you used for an extended trip. Alarmed, Sam tried to reason with him, asking about his destination and plans, and an explanation for the desperation etched in every shape of Steve’s body. He got almost nothing.

Sam tried to convince Steve to slow down, and give him a day to go on leave from the VA and accompany Steve wherever the road took him. Something told Sam that Steve should not be alone, but not a word out of his mouth seemed to register with the older man. Then Steve was gone in a whirlwind of dropped socks and regretful, beseeching eyes.

Sam tried to contact Natasha on the burner number she’d left them, and when that failed, he got in touch with Maria Hill, who had just started her new position at Stark Industries. That put him on a collision course with the eccentric billionaire himself, and Sam found himself much closer to the new Avengers team than he’d ever expected.

He liked Banner and Clint most of all, both reticent men who valued honest talk and privacy, without being overtly cagey. He shared his fears about Steve, and they all put ‘feelers out’ with their various connections, but there was no indication as to where the supersoldier had gone, until hidden HYDRA bases started getting blown off the map all over Europe.

Steve, naturally, had been his only suspect, but Sam hadn’t faulted him for wanting to wipe out the organisation that had taken everything from him. He’d only gathered intel out of a desire to help, and maybe wade in on the situation if it looked like Steve was taking unnecessary risks and getting in over his head.

Sam didn’t know who was more surprised, himself or Hill, when it turned out the European intelligence community was whispering about a ‘ghost’ of an assassin, the best in the world, who had turned on his masters when they had been exposed by Natasha, and was now systematically destroying them. (Steve, it turned out, had been fucking his new boyfriend across Europe. Their floor was covered in photographs of them sipping cocktails on beaches in tiny swimwear and hiking mountains without the proper gear and swimming in lagoons below breaktaking waterfalls.)

Yet Sam was none the wiser as to where Steve had acquired the aforementioned boyfriend, at home or abroad, how they had met or what it was about Jimmy that had forced Steve to slow down and register the world around him, rather than burning through it like he had nothing left to lose.

To say that Sam was alarmed, then, when Tony decided to rock the boat by bringing up a fact that they had all quite happily been repressing, was a gross understatement. Sam felt like the rug had been whipped out from under his sneaker-clad feet and he had the horrid notion that it was only going to get worse from here on out.


	3. Tony

“You know, shit like this is why Steve has trust issues. And also why he yells at you so much.” Sam said conversationally, as he dropped down beside Stark on the couch. The other man had dramatically thrown himself onto it, after Steve had tossed a scathing comment over his shoulder and slammed the door on his way to the elevator.

Steve had gathered the last of his and Jimmy’s personal items that morning; namely their abundance of photographs and Steve’s sketches, which had practically wallpapered their floor, and left. He and Jimmy had their own apartment now, somewhere in the Bronx. It was registered under Jimmy’s name, which they still hadn’t discovered, not for lack of trying. In fact, surreptitiously trying to find out that kind of information was exactly the reason Steve was moving out in the first place.

Tony’s campaign to pry into Steve’s love life had unfortunately not ended the other morning in the kitchen. No matter what Sam, or Rhodes, or Banner said; Tony was determined to unravel their mysterious flatmate, and his hold on Steve. The military seemed the best place to start, since their records were extensive, and a great board from which to launch from. When Tasha failed to extract his full name from Jimmy by more traditional means, Tony was forced to take matters into his own hands.

And because Stark’s hands were generally full of complex technological equipment, naturally he had Pepper organise a gigantic Stark Industries funded Veterans Gala, for former members of the US Military, sponsored by the VA. Sam was the obvious choice to liaise between SI and the VA, and Steve was asked to give a speech.

(They still weren’t sure which branch of the military Jimmy served in, and they had a pool going. It was around two thousand dollars now). When the fact that it was all a ploy, to find out more about Jimmy through old battle buddies, came to light, and Sam had helped organise it, it meant Steve was pissed with him too. So much so, that he threatened to get a restraining order against the first person who stalked them back to their new apartment, and turned up unannounced.

It was clear that Natasha was still going to do it, but Sam was pretty sure the real message was heard, loud and clear, by the rest of the Avengers. Steve moving across the city had compromised their readiness; he would always have to be independently contacted in case of emergency, and he’d no longer be a floor or so away to corral into a team movie night or table tennis tournament.

Steve was picking Jimmy. Jimmy’s safety and comfort, over the potential benefits for the team, both in terms of efficient mission planning and morale. Sam was sure that Tasha and Clint had worked out that Steve would disappear, with Jimmy in tow, if at any point he felt threatened in the future. He’d managed it well enough in Europe, and all the Stark tech and feet on the ground, in the form of Natasha and Sam, hadn’t made the difference.

Steve had stealth skills that he’d been hiding from the class, but it seemed that Tony and most of the others were wilfully ignoring that fact. Sam figured they probably didn’t want to consider there might be a time when Captain America would put his personal needs over his country. But Sam remembered the look in his eyes when he’d insisted that Jimmy had given enough. Steve might not have lost any body parts, but Sam knew what he had been thinking. ‘He’s given enough… and so have I.’

The Gala itself had gone swimmingly. Natasha was still one of the best in the business, and had managed to extract the fact that Jimmy’s name was actually ‘Joseph James’, and he went by the second, because Joseph was his father’s name. Steve had gotten real quiet at that. After some prodding from Tasha, eventually Steve revealed that it was his father’s name too. Tony had gleefully crowed over this information, as though it pointed out something nefarious about Steve’s psyche.

“He’s dating a man with his father’s name, who looks just like his dead lover. If Jimmy was a woman with his mother’s name and dead wife’s likeness, I wouldn’t be the only one saying he needs help!” Tony insisted, and Sam's stomach felt wobbly at the truth of it.

If he was being entirely honest, Sam didn’t know much about the gay community. It wasn’t so easy to even notice where he assigned differences from Steve and Jimmy’s relationship, to a heterosexual one, until it was pointed out to him. Previously, his only real connection had been through his lesbian cousin, who lived back in DC. Since Steve had introduced him to Jimmy, Sam had made more of a conscious effort to provide support for LGBT+ members of the VA. Such as LGBT+ only events, and providing a strong presence at Pride. He’d even coaxed Steve to take part, in a specially modified version of his suit. It had little rainbows on it in strategic places, so it was impossible to photograph of him without catching one in pride of place. It had been a great event, with even Jimmy making an effort to be sober, and dress appropriately in a neon vest and artistically ripped jeans. They reminisced over sending the press into apoplectic fits, over their symbol of wholesome America kissing his boyfriend whilst in full uniform.

The same could not be said for the aftermath of the VA Gala. If Jimmy had known anyone else there that night, he’d not revealed it, moving through the crowd like a shark circling prey. He looked uncomfortably gorgeous in a tux, and Sam lamented his heterosexuality as it floated out of his reach.

Sam was surrounded by objectively great looking guys all day long. While Steve’s clean-cut All American look didn’t do anything for him, seeing the usually rugged, tousle-haired, permanent-five-o’clock-shadow Jimmy, scrubbed up, with a Martini in his hand instead of a bottle, from whatever local brewery Steve was assessing that week, Sam felt uncomfortably warm. It was unfair that anyone could look that good while alternating between scowling at everything that moved, and licentiously running his eyes up and down Steve’s tight form.

“Well, I for one am not surprised that ‘Joseph James’ didn’t run into any shooty-stabby-killy buddies. Since JARVIS just informed me there’s no record of anybody with that name recently discharged from the military. A couple from Grandpa Nationalism’s era, maybe, but…” Tony trailed off because, while he’d been gesticulating wildly and revealing just how un-sober he was, Steve had entered the room, and was glowering at him, thunderclouds gathering above their heads, regardless of the distinct lack of Thor’s presence.

“And why was JARVIS trying to access Jimmy’s military records?” He asked coolly, belying the clear rage bubbling beneath his words. Sam took an involuntary step back, then caught himself. It was only Steve, after all, not a wild animal escaped from Central Park Zoo.

Tony squeaked undignifinely in reply to Steve’s cold fury.

Steve moved out of the tower officially three days later, but hustled Jimmy out in front of him that very night to get a hotel. Jimmy encouraged Steve to treat himself with luxury goods, citing that he’d earned it, and deserved to enjoy life with the money he worked for, fair and square. Sam knew they would be in some elegant five star place with a pool and jacuzzi, an impromptu getaway, so he tried not to feel too sorry for them.

However, the fact remained that Steve no longer felt secure in his own home, and resorted to leaving it for peace of mind, and that was something Sam was struggling to forgive Stark for. Steve had worked hard to make the future his home, but there were moments where it was blindingly obvious how uncomfortable he was with the changes here; the way he avoided Brooklyn like the plague was pretty damning evidence. He knew he was not the only one furious with Tony for his invasion of privacy going far enough to push Steve out.

They all accepted that living in Avengers HQ meant accepting JARVIS would be monitoring their vital signs and camera feeds, except in designated areas. Steve had requested JARVIS never record anything in his bedroom, and most of them had done the same. JARVIS was also silent on Steve’s level except during emergencies, out of deference to Jimmy, who found the automated voice disconcerting.

Still, Sam didn’t feel the entire incident merited them moving out completely, and said so when Steve announced they had found a new apartment, and he was just here for his things. Steve glared at him, clearly not yet in a forgiving mood, saying;

“Military records would have led Tony into classified documents, or private medical records. We all know he wouldn’t have stopped there. He would have torn Jimmy’s life apart, trying to satisfy his curiosity. That's not something anyone deserves. If you’re happy to live with someone like that, breathing over your shoulder, subject to his advanced technology’s whims... be my guest. But don’t expect me to subject Jimmy to the same. He’s suffered enough indignity in his life.”

Steve’s eyes fogged over with a horrors that only he could see, and Sam experienced the lurching sensation he had come to associate with learning new facts about Steve and Jimmy. Something about the hopeless, defeated tone in Steve’s voice made Sam think of the distressed relatives of POWs that he had occasion to speak to. It gave him into a nasty insight as to Jimmy’s distant, unforthcoming attitude, and shifted the axis of his understanding once again. He was learning never to underestimate the amount of layers separating the façade Jimmy presented to the world and the truth beneath.

The others in the room, Clint and Banner, allowed Sam to drag them into a theorising session once Steve had gone down to his old floor to start stripping his wardrobes and cupboards. There was no doubt Stark would not be stopped by anything as bourgeois as the law when it came to researching whatever caught his fancy, and Sam was uncomfortable in the realisation that Steve thought the rest of them condoned his invasive behaviour. Silently, Sam cursed Tony not understanding how valuable privacy was to someone like Steve. He was making Sam's job of looking out for his friend that much harder. Now any real concerns they might have about Jimmy, would be filtered through Steve’s protective tendencies on overdrive; trying to keep him from being victimised by a group of individuals with a formidable amount of resources at their fingertips.


	4. Natasha

Steve’s departure lasted two weeks, before Natasha came knocking on Sam's door, attempting to wheedle him into coming along on her visit to Steve’s new apartment. Not that Steve knew they were coming, Sam inferred by the smirk on her lips. He doubted she believed Steve’s restraining order threat - they could hardly work in close combat together if they had to remain 300 feet apart - but he also knew she had chosen to take Steve’s ire onto herself. There had only been a few Avengers meetings that Steve had deigned important enough to turn up to since the Gala. According to Clint, they had been littered with awkward silences, and Steve was pretty much giving Tony the cold shoulder as much as was possible. Tony was moping about the tower like a kicked puppy which had its favourite chew toy taken away. Steve’s passive aggression seemed to be seeping out of his every pore each time Sam saw him anywhere near Avengers HQ.

Their weekly runs around Central Park, of which Jimmy sometimes took part, had been less pleasant than usual. Jimmy did little more than smile smugly at passers by, and Steve pointedly avoided even the most remotely flammable discussion topics. Sam felt like he was navigating a minefield, especially during their customary coffee and bagel afterwards.

Last time, Jimmy seemed to find everything Steve said darkly amusing, much to the blonde’s chagrin: though Sam couldn’t understand why. He was only describing how he’d turned down an offer to design leaflets and posters about an upcoming exhibition at a local gallery, celebrating ‘the Art of Captain America’. Which was not to say the art on display was going to be Steve’s creations, but rather a look at the artwork depicting Steve’s past and heroism, both on and off the battlefield. It consisted of movie posters for biopic films and the HBO series, baseball cards and oil paintings, and book covers for fictional novels about Steve’s adventures. There were even going to be some of the original comic books on display, the value of which had risen astronomically since Steve's return. (Sam may or may not have spent an afternoon trawling ebay for the chance of getting his hands on one or two copies, entertaining a daydream).

Steve seemed embarrassed about the whole deal, whereas Jimmy, brazen as usual, revealed he’d convinced Steve to open the exhibition himself, using sexual favours. As always, Sam didn’t know where to look, and Steve blushed a rosy hue at the open discussion about their sex life; but a smug little grin twitched on his lips also. Sam had gotten pretty familiar with that look on Steve’s face. It was as though he couldn’t decide whether to be indulgently proud or mortified by Jimmy’s antics.

So when Natasha came to him, Sam couldn’t deny he was curious about the new space Steve and Jimmy had created for themselves. He trotted after her obediently, ignoring the little voice at the back of his head that was lamenting this clear honeytrap, which was only going to lead to tears later on.

Steve and Jimmy’s apartment was in a Victorian style house with a well-tended lawn, surrounded by the equally floral gardens of their neighbours, on a picture-postcard perfect street. Some of the houses had round tower spires growing out of their traditional roofs, and Sam felt distinctly out of place invading the quietus beside a superspy, in a neighbourhood he’d never heard of before now. It was named Bedford Park, and it seemed like the setting for Book Clubs and bake sales, not the preferred setting for a supersoldier to settle down with his gay lover.

Steve answered the door alone, with what Sam was coming to think of as his trademark ‘why are you bothering me?’ scowl. He was not alone for long however, as a grey Persian cat appeared, winding its way around Steve’s ankles. It was quickly joined by a little girl, no more than five or six years old, who clung to Steve’s pant leg, partially obscured by his frame, blinking balefully up at Sam and Natasha’s surprised faces. Wordlessly, Steve opened the door and walked away, clearly not bothered if they chose to walk in or go back the way they came. Sam was dying to ask about the girl; if he and Jimmy had somehow adopted her in the two weeks they’d been gone, or if she was Jimmy’s child from a previous relationship.

Of course, it turned out to be neither of those simple, straightforward answers. They ducked inside and snapped the door smartly behind them. They were in a mushroom-beige coloured hallway, lined with family portraits and candid shots. Naturally, Steve and Jimmy featured in many of them, but not all, and not enough to mark this as their property. The frames were dominated by a happy family of four; parents with two children, one of which was the girl who had toddled off after Steve, with a boy who was clearly her brother.

There were also photos of a smiling, elderly couple, and then more of the old lady on her own with what were probably her grandchildren. Sam wondered if she was Jimmy’s mother, since he knew that Jimmy’s father had died before he shipped out. There was also one or two of Steve’s sketches on the walls, but nothing like the volume that had plastered the walls back on his old floor in the tower. Sam had the sickening feeling they would be intruding on a contented family, and then berated himself for not thinking of Jimmy and Steve alone in those same terms.

They followed Steve’s rapidly retreating back down the narrow hallway, which ended in a bright, open plan kitchen-diner. The elderly woman from the pictures was seated in a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room. The cat was now fluffed up on her lap, like a grumpy grey cotton wool bundle, and the little girl had plonked herself at her grandmother’s feet, a brightly painted wooden trainset quickly diverting her attention from her unexpected visitors. The same could not be said for the old woman, whose eyes narrowed with suspicion before her mouth twitched into a wide, mischievous wrinkled grin.

“Bucky!” she cawed, “Your troublemaking little friends are here!”

From his position in the kitchen, the unflappable Jimmy turned toward the doorway, taking in Sam and Natasha’s uninvited appearance with supreme indifference. The boy from the pictures was seated on his shoulders, held in place by Jimmy’s flesh hand, his prosthetic one clutching a spatula. The stove behind him was covered by a sizzling pan. Without a word, Jimmy promptly chose to ignore them, turning his gaze instead to the grinning Grandma.

“It’s Jimmy, remember Aunt Susan? Joseph’s son, not Rebecca’s brother.” He corrected gently.

“Bah!” scoffed Aunt Susan, “My house. My ruddy nephew. Call you what I like.”

“Right you are, Aunt Susan. You want syrup or just butter on your pancakes?” He waved his spatula, as if in reminder of the imminent breakfast goodies, and turned back to face the stove.

“My doctor would say neither, but I say life is for living, since I haven’t much of it left.” Aunt Susan soliloquised, before throwing a wink in Sam’s direction. “The man’s a sadist, and I say he can go swivel! So I'll be having both, pet.”

Jimmy laughed, a bright, trilling sound of genuine delight, rather than the cruel tittering Sam was used to hearing from him. Steve had crossed the room while they were talking, and now he slid a comforting arm around Jimmy’s waist, an obvious gesture of reassurance and solidarity. It saddened Sam to know he was the kind of unexpected guest that people needed comforting from. Then Steve stepped away and began setting the broad dining table with the usual accompaniments for pancakes. Sam assisted him, and noted that there were no bananas in sight, which was his preferred topping along with maple syrup. Jimmy and Steve shared an intense hatred for the yellow skinned fruit that neither saw fit to explain.

“You eating?” Jimmy snapped, in the usual clipped way he spoke to everyone who wasn’t Steve, and, Sam now knew, his family.

Natasha declined his offer, but in the spirit of inclusion, and not wanting to sit awkwardly at the table, Sam accepted. He doubted Jimmy would try and poison them in front of two little kids, but clearly Natasha wasn’t so sure. The table was soon surrounded by the hungry, talkative family, and Sam was overcome with nostalgia for mealtime round his Momma’s table, with siblings and cousins all crammed on top of one another. It was too long since he had been home. He let the conversation wash over him, volunteering titbits of his own when asked, and offering compliments to the chef.

Not a single pancake was burnt or misshapen, and Jimmy kept them coming until everyone had eaten far too much. Only then did he polish off his own plate, steadfastly ignoring the presence of his unwanted guests. Sam learnt that the children were called Scott and Kimberly, that they were twins, and that Uncle Jimmy was their favouritest person in the wide world, though Uncle Steve was a close second, and told better bedtime stories.

After they were finished, Jimmy cleared the table with precise movements, which Sam recognised from having to take chow on the fly and get going ASAP in the theatre of war. Sam helped Jimmy collect the dishes to put in the washer, and put the syrup and other sweet toppings back where they belonged. Natasha remained with Steve, and out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw their terse, whispered conversation get frostier and frostier, until he could feel the chill in his bones from across the room.

Jimmy offered Sam a brusque thank you, before abruptly leaving the kitchen, and opening the French windows into the back garden. Without prompting, the twins dropped down from the table and raced outside with shrill shrieks. Through the open door, Sam saw Jimmy effortlessly lift the children and cross the grass with one under each arm, giggling as they kicked their legs and held out their fists like tiny supermen.

Hesitantly, Sam rejoined the table. Natasha was trying to catch Steve’s eye, but he was engaged in a rapid fire exchange with Jimmy’s aunt Susan. In another language. If Sam had to guess, it sounded Eastern European. And if Natasha understood it, she didn’t let on. Her face remained neutral, but Sam could tell she was getting seriously annoyed that Steve was stonewalling her.

When their chatter ended, Steve stood up to assist Susan from her dining chair, and out into the hall. After a moment, they heard the sound of a stair-lift whirring to life.

“I have chores to complete whilst Susan naps, otherwise she won’t let me do anything. She pokes me with her cane if I try, and calls me a 'do-gooding nuisance'.” said Steve, as he came back into the room. It was spoken with an indulgent smile, but the silent invitation for them to leave was written in the tense set of his shoulders.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” offered Sam, as politely and apologetically as he could manage.

“Do you have a landline number we can use to reach you here, if you’re regular guests?” Natasha asked, obviously reluctant to give up on her recon mission so soon.

“No, sorry. Afraid I don’t know it.” denied Steve, a barefaced lie. Somehow, he made it seem like a noble statement. But his eyes dared her to call him out on it, and the hostility growing between them seemed to take Natasha aback. She backed down, nodding once.

“We’re only staying here a few more days, then our apartment will be sorted, and we’ll be back to taking Susan and the kids out for lunch on weekends.”

The pointed dig at the fact that it was Sunday, sacred family time for someone as Catholic as Steve, made Sam almost physically wince.

Aware that they were rapidly testing the bounds of Steve’s hospitality, Sam got to his feet to make his way out, eyeballing Natasha until she did the same. Steve followed them to the door. Sam knew it wasn’t just his paranoia talking, that told him Steve was doing it more out of a need to prevent them from further snooping, rather than politeness.

Before he let them leave, he spoke again.

“More than one Avenger coming here puts this place on the map. Susan can’t have masked men or magic-wielding enemies turning up here in the middle of the night. She talks tough, but she has a weak heart.”

“We just need to know you’re somewhere safe and stable, Steve-” Natasha began, but in a show of uncharacteristic curtness, Steve cut her off.

“I’m not a minor or a vulnerable adult. Your concern is misplaced, but if I need help, I’ll ask for it.” He glowered, clearly exerting extreme control to maintain the volume of his voice.

Sam wanted to apologise, but stopped himself. At any time, he could have stepped back and told Tasha if she wanted to continue, she would have to go on alone. There was no excuse he could offer for his behaviour, so he didn’t give one.

Before either of them could say another word, Steve unlatched the door and held it open pointedly. “If you or anyone else turns up here uninvited, I’m calling the police.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Sam led Natasha out onto the porch, and tried not to be too downhearted when the door slammed shut behind them.


	5. Clint

Out of all of Steve’s associates, Sam had no doubt Clint was the one Jimmy tolerated most. He gave off the least ‘get out of my way’ vibes when Clint was talking to him. The fact that they were even able to hold a prolonged conversation without Jimmy’s usual disdain for everything and everyone shining through, was a testament to Clint’s laid back character. It was a big part of why Sam also liked him, though he was actively looking to keep up good relations, whereas Jimmy seemed reluctantly dragged into finding Clint a decent dude, against his will.

Jimmy was downright belligerent whenever Natasha or Sam asked him direct questions about himself, and Steve wasn’t much better, if he suspected they were chatting to him because they were gathering intel on his boyfriend. Somehow, Clint made his questioning seem much more innocent and reasonable. It was probably because info given to Clint rarely came back to bite you on the ass like it did with Tony or Tasha. In a nice change of pace, Thor wasn’t interested in Steve’s boyfriend, beyond trying to drink him under the table.

Banner had a stricter moral code then everyone else. He wasn’t a soldier or spy, but a scientist, one who had experienced being hunted and hounded, his privacy invaded on multiple levels. He had little to no sympathy for their interest in Jimmy, beyond ascertaining that he was no danger to Steve. Jimmy seemed to be suspicious of him anyway, especially around scientific equipment, and Sam had an inkling it was due to the Big Green Guy that came out in stressful situations. Tony had proven how stressful science could be, and Sam couldn’t really fault Jimmy for wanting to be well clear of that.

However, it had come as a surprise to find out Jimmy regularly hung out on Clint’s floor, waiting for Steve to be done with a mission or briefing he was restricted from. Sam came across them nattering away at the breakfast bar or tossing slurs back and forth over intense rounds of Mario Kart. It was probable that this was the relaxed version of Jimmy that Steve always got to see. Gradually, Sam began to realise that Jimmy's brash persona was the result of Avengers who thought they were entitled to pieces of him, because of his relationship with Steve. Not for the first time, Sam wished that he hadn't been based in DC when they had returned from their European road trip. He had obviously missed valuable moments where an intermediary had been needed.

Sam also lamented the fact that he could not bottle Clint’s disaffected calm and sell it. After befriending Captain America and being welcomed into the world of superheroes and spies, Sam had come to learn just how unable he was to switch off his ‘therapy mode’. It was like he couldn’t stop trying to encourage people to look at their choices, take a positive view and reassess their own motivations. Clint did none of that to Jimmy, and sighed, loudly and obnoxiously, whenever Sam tried.

Then again, maybe Jimmy simply liked him because Clint didn’t use ‘direct’ as a synonym for ‘invasive’, unlike some people Sam could name.

Also, Clint was kind of effortlessly cool. He was an expert at throwing food in the air and catching it in his mouth. The man had the hand-eye coordination of a demigod, according to Thor, and a reputation for archery that was famed across the world. No one was looking to be schooled enough to challenge him, except, apparently, Jimmy. With no witnesses to this unheard of exhibition of skill, and because it had taken place in some outdoor range out of JARVIS’s jurisdiction, they had to take Clint’s word for it that he wasn’t bullshitting them.

“He hit every bullseye, no joke.” Barton drawled lazily, as though it were no mere feat to be practising with Jimmy. Like Natasha wasn’t sitting next to him, practically frothing at the mouth with jealousy.

“You better not be dicking around with me, Barton,” she growled, launching a shelled peanut in his direction. Clint snatched it out of the air and crammed it in his mouth. It was just the three of him on Clint's comfy beanbags; Tony was fiddling with Clint’s kitchenware behind them, grumbling to himself and only occasionally joining the conversation.

“He seemed almost surprised at how good he was.” Clint resumed, “We left the old arrows in next round, because its always harder to hit your target with obstacles in the way, and no word of a lie, he shoots the next arrow _through_ his previous arrow. Clean cut - I picked it up after and it was sliced exactly down the middle. I still got the two halves.”

“That’s ridiculous.” said Tony. “I don’t have words for how ludicrous that is. That’s some Hollywood, Robin Hood, Merida bullshit. That can’t have happened, that only happens in movies.”

“Tony, breathe.” Sam reminded the other man, who was staring at them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“It’s not possible. Scientifically. It’s just not.” Tony claimed, turning back to the metal pieces strewn across Clint's kitchen counters in disgust.

Clint had a lost look on his face, as though he didn’t know how to complete his story. Eventually, he said; “Well, Jimmy did it. He seemed to freak himself out with it, to be honest. He dropped the bow and refused to pick it back up, even to put it away. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I doubt he’ll go back.”

Barton was obviously saddened by this, and Sam knew exactly why. It was always tough to lose a good sparring partner or practice buddy.

“What else did you get out of him?” Natasha asked, leaning forward in an uncharacteristic show of eagerness. Clint frowned, visibly put-off by her insistence.

“Nothing that could be of use. Nat, I respect your need to vet everyone around you, but by all accounts, he fits into what he claims to be. He’s abrasive, sure, but he has his reasons. I know you don’t like that you can’t manipulate him, and he’s not malleable to your charms. He might not like you, but I don’t see any evidence that he’s bad for Steve. It’s the opposite actually; Steve is way happier and settled now.”

Natasha shook her head, red curls bobbing gently with the movement. “You of all people know how happily it’s possible to live in a dream. Doesn’t make it the best thing for anyone.”

“Steve is an intelligent adult, he can make his own judgements and decisions. Maybe we should just butt out of this one,” argued Clint.

Sam tended to agree with that, glad he wasn’t the first person to say it. He was sick of being the sensible one, and getting real bored of the anti-Jimmy brigade.

But Natasha refused to back down. “Steve’s too close to this to see objectively. And you know it.”

Sam shifted in his squashy seat, preparing to wade in with his two cents and turn their attention on him. “Did you treat Pepper this way, when you first met?” he asked, settling back for the fallout.

From where he was tinkering with electronic household equipment, Tony stilled, once again invested in the conversation. Natasha frowned, the merest twitch of her eyebrow satisfying her clear need to fidget under their scrutiny.

“Yes,” she replied, sure in her convictions, so much so that Sam wondered if she had managed to convince herself.

“I’m not so certain,” Sam sighed, “Sexism and homophobia are insidious things, and they worm their way into places you never even think to shine a light on. I’ve had to think lately, about trust and boundaries, and if I’d have done the same things over, if Jimmy was a woman. Not sure I can say that I would. Steve lay down some pretty clear foundations about his new place, and we just stomped all over them.”

Clint frowned, clearly having lost the thread of the discussion. Sam pre-empted any face-off, by explaining how they’d gone to Steve’s at the weekend, only to find out it was actually the home of Jimmy’s elderly aunt. Halfway through Sam’s explanation, Clint turned an unimpressed look on Natasha.

“After I told you how it would go down, you still went ahead? Why, Nat?” he asked.

She turned her cool gaze on him and answered unapologetically; “You know why. It was necessary.”

“There are other ways.” Clint countered.

“Not as efficient as this one.”

Clint pursed his lips in the face of her obstinence. “I doubt that. I’ve gotten better results from casual conversations with him over video games, than all of your wiley ways put together. And how many of the bugs you planted on Sunday are still functional?” He almost demanded.

Natasha seemed surprised by his tone. She sniffed, and reluctantly admitted; “None.”

“Steve brought back their charred remains in a little bag. They’d been dunked in petrol and melted into a single, unsalvage mess.” Tony chipped in helpfully from across the room.

“He’s getting better. There were always one or two he missed in his DC apartment.” said Tasha.

Sam stared at her unrelentingly blank face, unable to believe how well he’d been duped into believing these were functional, rational people. First the Gala, now this. Steve was going to quit the Avengers, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t be a proportional response.

“I need new friends,” he declared, “Ones who don’t use stalking and phone-tapping as par for the course in their relationships. Either that, or I demand a raise for putting up with you fools.”

“We don’t pay you,” Natasha pointed out, her eyes revealing how grateful she was for the levity that followed his statement.

“More’s the pity,” said Sam.


	6. Maria

  
When Sam receives the invitation in the mail, the event a week on Sunday, he can’t quite believe it. Steve keeps his cards close to his chest. But if no one has cottoned onto this, his skill in espionage must have risen immeasurably in a relatively short space of time. Sam remembers Fury lamenting Steve’s terrible poker face as a main reason he didn’t let onto him about his whole faked death thing. Sam seriously doubts anyone would say the same now.

He toes on his shoes and leaves his New York apartment for the tower. This isn’t the kind of conversation that can be held over the phone, if the others have even gotten their invitations yet. Since it came by special delivery, there’s a chance they haven’t; but either way their faces are going to make for a pretty picture.

JARVIS informs him that only Natasha is in, entertaining guests on her floor. Only Clint has yet to open his mail, since he is on mission. Pepper and Tony were invited as one, so ‘Sir has been informed’ though he too is on mission. Bruce left early, and Sam just knows he was purposefully avoiding the fallout.

Natasha’s floor is occupied by the ladies in Sam’s life; the Avenger herself, joined by Ms. Potts, Agent 13 - Sharon, and Maria. The latter smiles brightly at Sam, raising her white wine in a toast to his presence.

Sam had been aware of these spa days that the ladies have intermittently, but he’s never barged in on one before. There are foot spas and nailcare equipment and lots of bottles of nail polish littered between glasses of wine.

Natasha moves out of her reclined position when Sam makes himself comfortable in an empty armchair, removing slices of cucumber from her eyes. She’s dressed in a fluffy blue bathrobe, her bright hair hidden by a matching towel. Sam can see her toes are painted an eye-watering shade of aquamarine.

“Sorry to intrude,” he began, receiving several entreaties not to worry about it.

“Got your invite too, right?” said Natasha, clearly not about to offer felicitations to the happy couple.

Sam nodded, and none of the women seemed surprised or otherwise out of the loop.

“I wasn’t invited,” admitted Sharon, tossing her long blonde hair back from her face, and wrapping one of those protective cotton headbands around her crown to keep it back. She pressed down the velcro to hold it in place and continued; “But Steve and I aren’t exactly close, so I’m not sore about it.”

“Well, I’m sore that it’s happening at all.” Natasha griped. “What is Steve thinking?”

Sam allowed his inner sadness at her words to show on his face. “Pretty sure he’s happy and in love, and thinking that he’s got a dangerous job and he’s not getting any younger. Make hay while the sun shines, and all that.”

Natasha looked at him as though she’d never seen him before. “I thought at least you’d be with me on this one.”

She sounded disappointed, and behind her back, Sam saw Pepper frowning in displeasure. He knew Pepper was a supporter of Jimmy and Steve’s, and had argued with Tony over the Gala which had caused them to move out. She’d been pissed with Stark for days, come to think of it. Sam had a feeling that Natasha ought to tread lightly.

“It’s not about taking sides,” Sam said, “Steve is my friend, and this is the path he’s chosen, free of coercion, without SHEILDRA looking over his shoulder and leading him by the nose. If I don’t support his right to make these kind of decisions, I’m no better than they are, and he’d drop me like the dead weight I would be.”

“We don’t know that for sure. That HYDRA didn’t have a hand on him meeting James.” Maria pointed out, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“Do we really think Jimmy’s a HYDRA candidate, though? He doesn’t seem the type to take orders, and he’s quite… undisciplined.” stated Pepper reasonably.

“It could be a very deep cover, I suppose,” replied Sharon, “But somehow, I doubt it. Like Pepper said, he doesn’t seem the type they’d be looking to recruit."

“I don’t really believe it, myself,” Maria admitted, proving why she was Sam’s favourite; “Right now, whatever remains of HYDRA has gone deep underground. If anything organised even still exists after the Winter Soldier concluded his rampage. I doubt they’d be looking to screw Steve over this way, as their top priority, when they could simply kill him. Lord knows James’ had enough unrestricted access to try.”

She took a long swig from her glass whilst the others contemplated her words.

“Why bring him back to the States at all? If James was on their payroll, it would have been much easier to make Steve disappear somewhere in Europe.” Sharon pointed out.

Natasha grimaced, as though she’d found a spider at the bottom of her glass. “Steve’s HYDRA's greatest enemy, but also their source of envy. If they wanted access to his living genetic material, James would be the way to do it.” she insisted stubbornly.

"I think Steve would notice his blood being taken," scoffed Sam.

"Not if he were sedated first," said Maria, playing Devil's advocate. "Anything's possible, but that's always true, of everyone. There's a point when you have to accept that playing offence isn't working. You can't battle against the whole world all the time. I for one, don't wanna lose Steve, or the support of Captain America next time extra-terrestrials come knocking, over this issue."

"You really think it could come to that?" asked Natasha, shocked. Maybe Sam had been wrong about her awareness of how much Steve was prepared to sacrifice for Jimmy. It seemed like she hadn't seriously entertained this possibility, herself.

Maria shrugged, giving nothing away about her personal feelings. "There are other teams out there."

" _The world will look up and shout 'save us', and I'll whisper 'No.'_ " Sharon quoted, a faraway look on her face that told Sam she was somewhere else entirely. He wondered what she was seeing, in her mind's eye.

"Watchmen?" asked Pepper.

"Steve," replied Sharon, "He's been watching a lot of movies. I asked him what he'd do if there came a time when he had to choose between Jimmy and his self-appointed duty. If saving the world meant letting him go."

"And that's what he replied with?" Natasha sounded appalled. Sam knew it was less to do with the words and the sentiment behind them, but rather who exactly had said it.

She rounded on Sam with a look that seemed to say, 'now do you see?', and Sam did, all too clearly. Steve was finally learning how to put himself first. And just like that, Sam concluded it was time to stop undermining his efforts, if he still wanted to call himself Steve's friend. Friends give advice, unwanted though it sometimes was, but they also respected one another's decisions. Steve had clearly made his, and it was Sam's turn to shut up and step aside, lest he wanted to get bowled over.

"You're okay with this?" Natasha demanded of him, and all Sam had to offer was a shrug.

"I'm down with whatever Steve thinks is the best course for his life to take. If that means a new team, a new apartment... nothing lasts forever. Sometimes you just gotta move on. And I gotta roll with that, if I don't want to get left in the rearview."

"Amen to that," agreed Maria, raising her glass in a salute, "It's time to switch to defense with this one, Tasha. We remain vigilant as always, but it's past time we welcomed James - _Jimmy_ , into our circle."

Natasha looked mutinous, but was aware of when she was out-gunned. The conversation moved on to other topics. Eventually, Sam admitted he had places to be, and made the mistake of mentioning he intended to call Steve and offer his congratulations, before his next appointment.

"Don't bother," said Natasha mulishly, "Steve's phone has been off all day. He and James booked out of State flights with some budget airline, but they were a no-show. My best guess was the trains, but circulating their pictures didn't get any hits. I paid a visit to Susan Proctor, and their vehicles are still in Bedford Park. Mrs Proctor wouldn't open the door to me. She threatened me with her cane, then the police, and then turned the sprinklers on. Either way, no one's seen them since Tuesday."

It was Thursday now. Sam valiantly managed to keep a straight face at the idea of a grouchy, dripping wet Natasha unable to gain access to an old lady's house.

"I went for a run with Jimmy yesterday morning. Steve met us after." he admitted reluctantly.

He was still recovering from what took place that day without Steve there, and quickly regretted his decision to say anything. Steve had just claimed he couldn't make it, when Sam asked, but he'd probably been planning this getaway, now that he thought about it.

Sam wriggled in his seat, suddenly hot under the collar. Jimmy had been incorrigible the entire route through Central Park. Downright flirtatious; though Sam had tried to convince himself otherwise. The fact that Jimmy's eyes never wandered was one of the few positives they could all agree on.

That he would start running around on Steve now, trying something on with Sam, of all people, seemed so unlikely that Sam dismissed it out of hand. Right up until Jimmy was backing him up against a tree, and stealing a kiss that had no right to feel as good as it did.

Before Sam had really registered what was happening, he was kissing Jimmy's soft lips, and taking the chance to get a grip on that stupidly perfect ass of his. Jimmy had moaned deeply when he had gotten a good quality squeeze in, and that had been enough to bring Sam back to reality.

He failed at trying to dart away, hindered by the tree, but he did succeed in shoving Jimmy away. Stuttering out his confusion and horror at the idea of betraying Steve's trust that way, until Jimmy had laughed in his face.

"Calm down, Casanova. Think you're worth risking Steve for? Please." Jimmy sneered, and Sam tried not to be colossally offended. "You think I would be here without Steve's say-so?"

Sam had almost gotten whiplash trying to keep up with the shifting situation. When he gathered himself together enough to comprehend what was happening, he asked;

"What would you have done, if I hadn't stopped? If I'd taken you up on the offer?"

Jimmy shrugged, apparently unconcerned. Sam could believe it.

"Probably kneed you in the nuts," he paused, a wicked grin on that cruel mouth. "Then again, maybe I'd've let you fuck me against that tree. Guess we'll never know, eh? Definitely would have told Steve what a shithead you were, though, either way."

Sam bounced from one foot to the other; unsure where to direct his energies, and the swirl of dizzying emotions that had come at him all at once, battling for dominance. He settled on indignation because it was easy. And he was too tired from trying to keep up with Jimmy's insane pacing to get angry.

"What did you do that for?" he panted, his lack of air a combination of jogging and having the breath kissed out of him.

"To see if it was going to become a problem." Jimmy said simply, which was no answer at all.

Sam froze. "What?"

"The way that you look at me. Or did you think I hadn't noticed?"

Jimmy tilted his head on one side, looking at Sam like he was a treasured pet that had done something charming. Then the smile slide off his features, his face going as blank and emotionless as a machine. Sam had shivered, overcome with the uncomfortable sensation that Jimmy could see right through him, into all the darkest corners of his mind.

"This some kind of test?" he snapped, more for something to break the silence than any real attempt for answers.

Jimmy threw back his head and laughed, and for once, it sounded somewhat the way he laughed at Steve; the way he'd laughed in his aunt's kitchen. With honest mirth. "All of life is a test Sammy-boy."

Sam was floating far out to sea without a lifeboat. He fumbled, still trying to get something valuable out of the exchange to take away and ruminate over later, with a glass of something strong in his hand. "I wouldn't have - you gotta know that. Steve has gotta know I would never do him like that."

He didn't bother trying to deny Jimmy's accusation. His hands hadn't grabbed Jimmy's ass without some input from his brain, after all.

"Do we?" countered Jimmy, advancing on him again. Getting in Sam's face. "Do we know that?"

Sam tried to step back, and was uncomfortably reminded of the tree when it collided with his back again.

Jimmy's shark-like grin was the stuff that either nightmares or the best fantasies were made of. Sam just wished he could say for certain which would be applicable to him.

"You know, I'm not totally against following you down this sordid little rabbit hole. Steve's kind of the jealous type, though, but you're cool with him watching, right?" Jimmy said before he skipped away, sweat-slick and painfully beautiful in the early morning sunlight.

"You know, you guys could have just asked!" Sam yelled at his rapidly disappearing back, once he'd gotten his bearings again.

To which Jimmy quipped; "What perfect advice - for Romanov!" over his shoulder, as his trainers kicked up clouds of dust.

Now, in Natasha's living space, Sam shook himself out the memory, feeling oddly ashamed about the whole incident. Steve had been waiting with coffee and bagels at their usual spot at the end of the route. He sheepishly admitted he'd tried to talk Jimmy out of it. Sam was more concerned about the fact both he and Jimmy had cottoned onto to Sam's less than honourable thoughts, unacted upon though they were. Now, he wondered who else knew.

Before he did anything foolish and gave himself away, Sam made his excuses and left, pausing only to ask Maria to accompany him out. She seemed pleasantly surprised, and hopped off the sofa to escort him to the elevator.

These recent events had given Sam a little perspective, and he realised the time had come to take the bull by the horns.

"I know we each have our own golden tickets, but I wondered if you might afford me the honour of being my date for the festivities?" Sam asked her, as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Maria's smile was truly a thing to behold.

"I would love to be your arm-candy." she said. They agreed to arrange timetables, colour co-ordinate and carshare.

"Don't tell Natasha," Maria whispered, as JARVIS announced the elevator. "But Pepper and I helped organise everything. Men are useless at organising on this scale. Who do you think was haggling with florists and cake decorators? Not Steve, that's for sure. Had a little help from Jimmy's lovely cousins, of course."

Sam was impressed and let Maria know it. She hopped into the glass elevator with him, and rode it several floors down before she admitted; "Steve asked me to look into Jimmy when they first came back from Europe. Said he was on the cusp of falling, and he didn't want to take the plunge if he was going to go splat at the end of it.

Sam frowned, confused. "That intel wasn't enough for Natasha?"

Maria smiled wryly. "I redacted some of it; like his surname. She was not impressed."

"I don't know if she'll ever be satisfied," sighed Sam.

"And if I didn't know better, I'd say she was jealous. But she sees the world in a different way. She's just not ready to let go." Maria frowned. "But I wish she would. I don't know how much more Steve can take. I'm not ready to lose him. If she does anything on the day, I may have to take her out myself. Temporarily, of course. Just enough to make sure everything sticks to the timetable. If anything screws with Pepper's schedule, blood will be spilled."

Sam liked Maria. She was ruthless and professional, but never cold. There was something warm and human about her that made him want to spill all his secrets to her. And most of all, he admired her ability to quietly go about her business, getting shit done and not even taking the credit half the time. She was satisfied knowing all her pieces had come together into a neat jigsaw. Sam was pretty sure Maria Hill could covertly rule the world, and even superspies like Natasha wouldn't notice - and he was cool with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been phenomenal, thank you all so much! Promise I will reply to individual comments when I can. ~~If anyone is interested in an out-take chapter detailing the one-off threesome between Sam/Jimmy/Steve, I'd be happy to write it. It won't be featured in this fic because I'm trying to keep the rating low. But yeah. Lemmie know.~~
> 
> People seem to have gotten the wrong end of the stick. There is going to be a b-side fic to go along with this one, with 'missing scenes', out-takes etc. That fic *might* include a threesome between Sam/Jimmy/Steve. But since I'm getting a pretty negative response to that, probably not. I have tagged this fic with all that it requires. Sam is never going to be in a relationship with Jimmy or Steve (but especially not Steve because I don't ship them at all). He's just working himself out right now, Jimmy has no shame, and Steve is learning to live a little. Having sex =/= love. Jimmy and Steve love each other, in an exclusive, forever after kind of way. Hope that clears things up :)


End file.
